


Checking Out the Plumbing

by Nyssa



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyssa/pseuds/Nyssa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys play their own private game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checking Out the Plumbing

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought there was something weird about Starsky's bathroom habits. The way he whines about having to go in "Las Vegas Strangler," and Hutch snaps at him to "hold onto it!" And the thing about going to the john before sentencing in "Bloodbath." And the way he rushes over to use Hutch's bathroom in "Foxy Lady," and of course Hutch (the meanie!) won't let him.... Those guys were up to something!
> 
> Written for and published in _Dangerous Visions_ vol. 6.

“I’m hot,” Starsky grumbled. He shifted restlessly on the Torino’s front seat. It had to be ninety, at least, and they couldn’t run the a/c because they couldn’t run the engine. Too much noise.

Hutch didn’t take the binoculars from his eyes, leaving them trained on a window of the old warehouse. “Join the club, buddy. Nice and toasty today.”

“Also, I’m hungry. We’ve been here – ” Starsky consulted his watch “ – two and a half hours. It’s way past lunchtime, and I didn’t even have a decent breakfast.”

“Should’ve brought something, like I did.” 

“Like you did, huh? Rice cakes are not lunch, pal. I need real food. Y’know, burgers, fries, pizza…” He trailed off, sighing. Talking about it was just making him feel more hollow.

“Starsky, shut up. We’ll eat as soon as we’re done here.” Hutch sounded infuriatingly composed.

“Which would be when, exactly? Davis and Ramirez said they’d relieve us at one, and here it is one-fifteen. ”

“They’ll be here when they get here, okay?”

Starsky muttered darkly and shifted his weight again.

Hutch lowered the binoculars and shot him an exasperated look. “And will you please quit fidgeting? Just relax, for God’s sake!”

“Look, I gotta pee, okay? I’m hot, and I’m hungry, and also I gotta pee! Maybe _some_ people got bladders of iron, maybe that’s the way they make ‘em in Minnesota, but normal people hafta take a leak once in a while!”

“Oh,” Hutch said, softly. “So that’s what this is all about.”

“Whaddaya mean by….” Starsky trailed off as Hutch’s meaning sank in. He felt heat rise in his cheeks. “No, that’s _not_ what this is all about.” And it really wasn’t. He actually hadn’t been thinking about it at all.

But now…. 

He glanced deliberately away from Hutch, and then back. Hutch’s eyes met his, and they had that _look_ in them. That I’m-ready-to-play-if-you-are look that always made Starsky’s heart pound.

Hutch turned his head, raising the binoculars to his eyes again. “Forget it,” he said. “Think about something else.”

Starsky swallowed. Hutch’s voice had such a note of command in it.

He lowered his own voice to an undertone. “I really gotta go, Hutch.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Hutch turned to him again, eyes cold. “Well, you can’t. And that’s final.”

Oh, this was gonna be a good one. “C’mon, Hutch, I gotta.”

“Starsky, do you see any place around here where you can take a leak?”

Starsky looked around. Stakeouts weren’t usually known for their scenic attractions, but they’d been sentenced to a particularly uninspiring setting for this one. Deserted warehouse, miles of featureless parking lot, empty (and thankfully, non-stinky) dumpster he’d parked behind for cover. Concrete, asphalt, and more concrete. Not so much as a wilted shrub in sight.

It was _perfect_. There was nowhere to go at all. He barely stopped himself from rubbing his hands together with satisfaction.

“I could, uh, go around the side of the building – ” 

“Oh, sure, Starsk, go right ahead. Stroll casually across an open area the size of Delaware while I try to keep your ass from getting shot off. That building must have four hundred windows, and Richardson and his goons could be behind any of them with enough firepower to blow us both to outer space. Go right ahead.”

Starsky was almost certain Richardson and his goons were nowhere near the building, or for that matter the greater Los Angeles area. His gut instinct told him the drug lord had split when the heat came down and was now busy plying his dubious trade elsewhere, and if only certain higher-ups in the BCPD (Chief Ryan, for instance) would listen to reason, Zebra Three would never have been dispatched to this godforsaken place to begin with. And he knew Hutch’s gut instinct was in accord with his own. 

But Hutch could put on a hell of an act when he wanted to. Role-playing was something he enjoyed. Role-playing and being in control. Having Starsky _let_ him be in control.

And Starsky didn’t mind. Especially not when it came to something so…intimate.

He scanned the front of the warehouse, wondering if his quickened breathing was noticeable to Hutch, knowing that it was. “Not four hundred. Not even one hundred. Not even fifty. Here I am about to float away, and you’re hyperbolizing.”

Hutch raised his eyebrows. “Hyperbolizing, huh?”

“Hyperbolizing. You know, wildly exaggerating. You got a tendency to do that, Hutch.”

“And you don’t.”

“No, I don’t. Like right now, I’m not hyperbolizing when I say I need to pee. Really bad.” _Don’t let me, don’t let me, don’t let me…._

“You can do it after Davis and Ramirez get here.” Hutch snickered. “Why do you think it’s called being relieved?” 

Starsky rolled his eyes. “Good thing you tell such lousy jokes. If that was funny, I’d have wet pants now.”

“Starsk, it’s all a question of mind over matter.”

“Mind over bladder? ” 

Hutch ignored that. “If you tell yourself you don’t need to go, you won’t need to go.”

“You want me to lie to myself? You want me to throw out all my ethics, all my integrity – ”

“Oh, for God’s sake – ”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you honesty is the best policy?”

“Starsk,” Hutch said, “I’m not letting you out of this car. We don’t have a bottle you can use. There’s no place to go, so you’re not going. Case closed.”

“But – ”

Hutch brandished a finger at him. “Case closed.”

The pressure was getting bad now, the pressure in his bladder and the excitement, the wanting, the anticipation. God, Hutch knew just how to draw it out, just how long to make him wait, just how much to make it hurt.

He adopted a pathetically hopeful expression. “But I can go as soon as we’re done here?”

Hutch tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes as though considering. “Maybe.”

“ _Maybe?_ But you said – ”

Hutch shrugged. “People are entitled to change their minds, Starsk.”

“Jeez, what’ve I gotta do, suck you off first?”  
At the words, Hutch’s lips parted slightly. Starsky heard him suck in a breath.

Oh, God. Hutch had never made him _pay_ for it before. Starsky’s skin crawled delightfully. 

Encouraged, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “That’s what you want, right? It’s not enough, torturing me and making me beg. You want me to get down on my knees and open my mouth, and – ” 

“Starsk – ” Hutch whispered.

“ – and swipe your tip with my tongue, all hot and wet, and – ”

“Starsk – ” Hutch pleaded.

“ – and slide my lips down over you real, real tight, and – ”

“Starsk – ” Hutch gasped.

“ – and take you all the way to the back of my throat, and – 

“Starsk, they’re here!”

“ – and suck you so hard you – what?”

Hutch pointed past Starsky with an unsteady finger. “Davis and Ramirez,” he said.

Starsky turned reluctantly away from Hutch and glanced out the driver’s side window. A black and white patrol car was cruising slowly into the parking lot. With the exception of Hutch’s body, splayed out naked before him and ready for the taking, it was the most beautiful sight he could imagine.

 

*****

 

Hutch’s place was nearer than his, but not near enough to suit Starsky. Only the knowledge that it would be utter insanity to risk getting caught in the same stall with his partner in a public restroom kept him from pulling into the nearest gas station. Instead he drove as fast as he dared (which was pretty damn fast) back to Venice Place, willing himself to ignore the pressure in his bladder. 

When they’d gone a mile or two, Hutch reached over and placed a big, warm hand on Starsky’s belly, just below the navel, and pushed gently. “Hold on,” he said. “Not much further.”

Starsky swallowed and nodded. Hutch’s hand felt so good, so comforting, helping him hold it. How many guys would do a thing like that for their partner? 

Hutch followed him up the stairs at Venice Place and into the darkened apartment, and almost before Starsky could kick the door shut, Hutch had both arms around his waist, hands locked together over his distended bladder, hard cock pressed against his ass. 

“Feel that?” he whispered, his breath tickling Starsky’s ear. “That’s what you’re gonna swallow if you want to piss today.”

Oh, Hutch was in fine form today. Starsky shuddered. He was practically dancing with the need to urinate; now that he was out of the car and standing, it was much worse. He could wait – he _wanted_ to wait, wanted to stretch it out, to see how good it could be – but not much longer.

“Here,” Hutch said, almost gently, and turned him around, turned him in his arms, pushed down on his shoulders.

“I’m gonna wet my pants,” Starsky said as he knelt, though he didn’t really think so. He and Hutch were getting better and better at this game. His control was excellent now.

“No, you won’t.” Hutch touched the top of his head, buried his fingers in the curls, and Starsky smiled to himself. Hutch was good at the domination thing, but the tenderness was always there underneath. He couldn’t hide it.

Starsky mouthed Hutch’s length through his jeans for just a moment, enjoying the hitch in his partner’s breathing, before he opened them, slid them down a bit, and took the erection in his mouth. His eyes closed in pleasure, and his own cock, hard since before they’d left the warehouse, knocked impatiently at his zipper. He wondered, somewhat frantically, if he’d have to come before he could pee. The fullness in his bladder pushed down against his prostate, making him lightheaded.

He finished Hutch quickly, knowing his partner didn’t want a long drawn-out production, knowing that he was in a hurry, too, knowing that just the sight of Starsky on his knees, sucking hard, head bobbing industriously, was enough to drive Hutch to desperation. He came with a grunt, pulling Starsky’s head closer, driving hard into him, spilling gratefully into his throat. Starsky swallowed the spurts rapidly.

He backed off slowly and looked up. “Good to the last drop.”

Hutch gazed down at him through glazed eyes, panting. “I know it’s not, but thanks just the same.”

Starsky grinned and rose to his feet. “Better than cod liver oil, anyway. My mom used to….” He trailed off, swaying weakly. “Oh God, Hutch, I gotta – ” 

“I know, buddy,” Hutch said, hastily zipping his jeans. “Bathroom.”

“No,” Starsky said desperately. “I gotta come. I gotta come before….”

Hutch’s eyes slid to Starsky’s bulging crotch. “Can you?” 

“Yeah. I think.”

Hutch looked uncertain, tentative. “You want me to – ”

“No, I….” Starsky was uncertain, too, about where the game stood now. He gave Hutch a pleading look.

And Hutch caught it, understood it. His eyes softened with sympathy for just a moment, and then hardened, narrowed. 

He gestured to Starsky’s groin. “If you think I’m putting my mouth on that, you’re crazy.”

Starsky felt his face burn.

“I’m not doing it. Do it yourself.” Hutch turned on his heel, stalked over to the couch, and sat, crossing his legs indolently. “I’ll watch from here.”

Starsky fumbled frantically with snap and zipper, reached into his jeans, and took hold of his pathetically grateful prick. He rested one hand on the wall for balance and jerked himself quickly, steadily, hard and hot and sure, eyes locked with Hutch’s, warm from their heat, wondering for a moment if he really could, if his bladder really was too full. And then he came, shuddering, watching it shoot from him in white streaks to splatter inelegantly against the wall. 

He stepped back on rubbery legs, and Hutch was there beside him, silently passing him a handkerchief. He scrubbed at the wall for a moment, breathing hard, and Hutch ran a hand over his back. 

Starsky dropped the cloth on the floor and turned to Hutch. “Now,” he said, voice shaking. “Can’t wait.”

Hutch nodded, and almost shoved him into the bathroom. He raised the toilet seat, pushed Starsky in front of it, and took hold of Starsky’s cock from behind, his warm arms wrapped around him once again, right where they belonged. “Go ahead,” he said softly, and kissed Starsky’s neck. “Go ahead, babe.”

He was still a little hard, but he managed. And, oh, the relief as he let go, letting it pour out of him in a rush, feeling the sweet ache as his bladder emptied, leaning back in Hutch’s arms, letting Hutch do the aiming, letting Hutch do everything, watching it splash into the bowl while Hutch’s hand held him so comfortingly. That hand didn’t leave him, even when it slowed to a trickle, staying to shake off the last drops, to tuck him tenderly away, to zip him up, all neat and tidy, until he was completely normal, completely presentable, just Detective Sergeant David Starsky again, not a guy who got off pissing in front of his partner.

He sighed heavily, and rested his head on Hutch’s shoulder, eyes slipping shut. He moved with Hutch as his partner leaned forward and flushed the toilet, then straightened up again. 

“Good?” Hutch whispered.

Starsky nodded.

“Ready for some lunch?”

Starsky’s eyes snapped open. “Hey, yeah. What time is it?”

Hutch’s hand slid to Starsky’s wrist, lifting it to peer at his watch. “Almost two.”

“Jeez, you logged us out at, what, one-thirty? We’ve only got half an hour, and I’m starved.”

Hutch smiled. “Better eat here. I’ve got the rest of that pizza from the other night in the fridge, if you’re interested.”

Starsky’s mouth watered. “Yeah, I’m interested.”

Hutch pushed him gently toward the door. “Go warm it up, I’ve gotta….” He gestured toward the toilet. 

“ ‘Kay.” Starsky shut the bathroom door behind him and headed for the kitchen, whistling under his breath. He had no intention of wasting time warming the pizza up. He’d eat it cold, and love it. Hutch wouldn’t want any anyway; his belly was already full of those damn rice cakes.

He took the pizza out of the fridge, slid the aluminum foil off it, and got to work, munching happily on congealed cheese and cold pepperoni while he scanned the shelves for something to drink. He had a taste for beer, but they were going back on duty right away, so that was out. And of course, the only other liquids in there were all healthy stuff. Muttering, he took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water. He didn’t like drinking water. It didn’t have any taste, and it went through him like – well, like water. And pizza always made him extra thirsty, which meant he’d have to drink another glass, which meant he’d have to pee before you knew it….

He paused, studying the clear liquid thoughtfully. He could drink two glasses. Maybe he’d even start carrying water with him to work. After all, Hutch was always telling him it was good for him.

He looked at the closed bathroom door, smiled, and took a long swallow.


End file.
